


Well Blow Me Down

by baja_king



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 03:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7084225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baja_king/pseuds/baja_king
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beer, women, music, and raising a few marks for the Winter Relief. One shot.</p><p>A short story in response to a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well Blow Me Down

#  **Well Blow Me Down**

It was warm – too warm, as far as Hogan was concerned. He imagined Germany as a country constantly embittered by long snowy winters and brief periods of agricultural idylls. For the past two years as a prisoner of war, that proved true. Something changed and the sun shone brilliantly.

Standing in formation, Hogan pulled out a kerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had not bothered with his bomber’s jacket in days. He was ready to abandon both his military decorum as well as his crush cap. Looking at his men, he realized their intense discomfort with the heat wave.

Schultz lumbered toward the formation in near exhaustion. He wanted to count the men. No one had the energy to interfere with his duties. A roving guard with dog casually walked past the men. The poor animal panted and finally lay down in protest. The guard crouched, opened his canteen, and poured some water in his hand. The dog quickly drank the water.

Klink proudly exited the Kommandantur. He looked at the ragtag formation and snapped, “Report!”

Schultz stood at attention and cried, “All present, Herr Kommandant!”

“Very good,” said Klink. “Colonel Hogan, I’m sure you’re curious as to why I’ve called this special formation.”

“I’m sure it’s against the Convention,” Hogan retorted.

Klink said, “Not at all. The town mayor needs extra help setting up the Strength through Joy Volksfest. With so many loyal German men serving the Third Reich, he does not have enough carpenters to build the booths.”

Hogan said, “I see. You want us to help set it up but in the end you’ll enjoy the beer, women, music, and other festivities. Should I press your lederhosen?”

Klink flatly said, “This is a paying job, Colonel Hogan. Of course, you’ll be compensated in scrip redeemable at our commissary, and I’ll see to it that we have extra stock of produce on hand.”

Newkirk said, “Bloody hell! I don’t want cabbage. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have the beer and women!” The comment evoked boisterous agreement among the ranks. Even Schultz let out a hearty laugh, until a stern look from Klink sobered his demeanor.

Klink sternly said, “No one is forcing you to work this detail.”

Hogan suspiciously asked, “Why us?”

Klink replied, “Why not? You’re just lazing about waiting for the end of the war, of which you are no longer participants.”

Hogan said, “We’ll think about it.”

“Very good,” smiled Klink. “Dismissed!”

Hogan watched as Klink returned to the Kommandantur. His men gathered around and he said, “I can’t order any of you to do this, but it might be fun to know where this big party’s happening.”

LeBeau dreamily sighed, “Girls.”

Kinchloe said, “We’ll never get to see any of them unless Klink lets us set up a food stand.”

Carter said, “I’d rather man the kissing booth.”

While Klink often reminded the men they were no longer participants in the war, Hogan and his core team understood the truth. The notion of lazing about upset Hogan. The men needed a break from the sabotage operations. Hogan absentmindedly stroked his chin in thought as the men joked about the upcoming festival.

Hogan finally said, “Men, I think we’re entitled to a weekend pass.”

Newkirk said, “Now you’re talking!”

#HH#

Hogan smiled as he casually exited Klink’s office. He winked as Hilda lifted her head up, momentarily abandoning the obscure paperwork in favor of a quick smile. Klink reluctantly agreed to the prisoners helping with a music and dance stand for one day. Convincing the mayor was another matter.

Hogan understood it, even though the mayor did not outright say it. The goal of the Strength through Joy Volksfest was to keep the workers distracted by filling their idle time with activities advocating the ideals of the Third Reich. In the end, the mayor agreed that it might be amusing to publicly display prisoners supporting the effort.

The men dutifully loaded into the truck under guard. They not so silently cursed as Schultz managed to hit every pothole in the road. It took approximately fifteen minutes before they reached their destination: an open field outside of town that served as an impromptu fairgrounds area for the citizenry.

Yes, it was business for the prisoners as Schultz led them to an older man who put them to work building booths and setting up tents. Hogan surveyed the situation. Few young men assisted with the labors. The local infantry supplied two platoons that assisted with the set up operations. Why was it so damn hot?

As Hochstetter casually observed the prisoners, Hogan took careful note. It would not be a proper festival without the Gestapo monitoring activities. Yet Hochstetter said nothing as he took out a kerchief and wiped his brow. While the old black uniforms proved menacing, the current gray uniforms better suggested the Gestapo’s relationship as a subordinate paramilitary police organization serving under the authority of the SS.

Hogan teased, “It’s the friendly neighborhood Gestapo volunteering to help out.”

Hochstetter grumbled, “What is this man – oh, never mind! Back to work.”

Hogan smirked as Hochstetter walked away. The unusually warm weather did affect the work details. The local citizenry had the option to wear summer attire. Military units favored lighter summer uniforms. Hogan only had what he managed in his survival bag when he was forced to bail from his bomber two years ago.

Just as the temperatures seemed to cool, it was time for Schultz to recall the prisoners to camp. He did not want any prisoners taking advantage of the vague shadows caused by the setting sun to escape his watch. The men were tired, but knowing there was a personal reward kept their spirits high.

#HH#

Hogan had never been to a Volksfest. Schultz and Langenscheidt led the men to a music platform. Curious onlookers dressed in traditional clothing looked slightly amused as they indulged in steins of beer. Hogan smiled at several pretty frauen wearing dirndls and sleeveless lace blouses. He silently snickered as he saw men in lederhosen, wondering how they fared in leather. The current band played traditional folk music.

The music platform would serve a variety of performers. When the band finished its piece, the men left the platform. Schultz motioned for the prisoners to take their places. Hogan settled in at the drum set. LeBeau took his place at the piano. Kinchloe began tuning the bass. Carter took out his trumpet from the case. Newkirk pulled out a baton.

Klink went scrambling onto the platform and said, “Hogan, no funny business.”

Hogan said, “Trust me. We’re almost as good as Tommy Dorsey.”

“Not one sour note,” warned Klink.

“I would never,” swore Hogan.

Some in the audience looked at the ensemble with suspicion while others bore idle interest. What could a group of Allied prisoners to do add to the festivities? The ensemble began with its first piece, which offered sounds contrary to the traditional bands playing about the field. The jazz tones proved daring and exciting, encouraging free style dancing and raised steins of beer.

Surprisingly, the audience cheered when Hogan’s ensemble completed its first piece. Klink bore the look of a cat that swallowed the canary. He barely noticed Hochstetter approach as he encouraged Newkirk to conduct another piece. It was going very well. The people were amused with the ensemble.

Hochstetter growled, “Listen to that American decadence!”

Klink smiled, “The people are happy! Everyone is having such a good time.”

Hochstetter said, “Bah! Did you forget they are the enemy?”

Klink asked in true innocence, “Would you prefer they be in the air dropping bombs?”

Rather than respond verbally, Hochstetter chose to storm away from the area. Klink allowed himself an indulgence as he surveyed the frauen. Why not? He deserved to have some fun as well. When the decadent ensemble completed its piece, the people cheered. Klink knew he did well to let the prisoners perform.

The mayor walked onto the stage and said, “Well done! Perhaps they will indulge us another piece while we collect for the Winter Relief!”

Hogan stood up and cried, “I know! Kiss the Kommandant for one mark! The best kisser wins a date!”

Newkirk shouted, “You have to blindfold him so that he remains impartial.”

Klink said, “Now see here…”

The mayor said, “That’s an amazing idea!”

Despite a gentle protest and a red face, Klink felt he had little choice. The crowd cheered and applauded the effort. He removed his monocle and allowed himself to be blindfolded. The ensemble played a curious slow piece he did not know.

“Ein,” said a woman in a seductive voice.

Klink felt flush when he received the kiss. Maybe it was not so bad. He heard the coin drop into an empty stein. It continued for several moments as different women approached. He felt confused when he felt a warm breath approach but heard no number. Then he felt accosted with an overly aggressive kiss that refused to end.

When it was over, Klink cried, “Ich glaub mich knutscht ein Elch!” _I think I was kissed by a moose!_

“Albert!”

As the crowd laughed, Klink pulled off the blindfold and saw an angry Frau Linkmeyer. Then he saw Burkhalter approach.

Burkhalter laughed, “You may be right.”

Newkirk cried, “I think we have a winner!”

#HH#

It was a small wonder that Hogan and his men were allowed to remain after the traditional band resumed their playing. Klink recovered from his kiss. Burkhalter was intoxicated enough to allow the prisoners an hour of drinking and dancing.

Eventually, all good things come to an end. While the festivities would continue well into the night, the Allies had to revert to their status as prisoners of war. Schultz dutifully counted the men as they entered the truck.

“Let’s do this again tomorrow,” smiled Hogan.

Schultz said, “Jolly jokers.”

Hogan vowed to remember the date June 4, 1943 as the day Klink gave him a one-day pass into town.


End file.
